


Looking Back, A Retrospect.

by Cosmi_x



Series: No Title [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Use Of Jokes To Cope With Trauma, Flashbacks, Gen, Hearing Voices, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Reconciliation, other than the first two the rest are just mentioned characters, tommy deadass is not having a good time rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28231371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmi_x/pseuds/Cosmi_x
Summary: TommyInnit is not having the time of his life in exile. Day one and his already losing it. Growing pains and past trauma bring him to the edge, that is until the ghost of his brother returns.(aka the fic where I give Wilbur and Tommy some closure but there’s angst!)
Relationships: Ghostbur & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: No Title [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068737
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	Looking Back, A Retrospect.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to panic_kingexe for getting me back into writing after years???? 
> 
> Idk if the story is good but I really just craved pain and angst :)
> 
> If i miss a trigger because I undermined something please comment!! if I don’t respond send a dm to my twitter @Cosmi_x

Being exiled was one thing, being exiled thousands of blocks away from New Lmanburg to a remote island, with only the vast ocean and dumb animals to keep you company? Now that was by all accounts something Tommyinnit vehemently disapproved of.

It wasn’t his fault (maybe) per se, to, you know set fire to a lovely cottage house completely unprovoked. Who would have guessed that it could have spiraled down to an apparent exile from his very own country? Dream was always a little pissy man.

And so, sat on the empty beach, blocks away from a village (and New Lmanberg) was one sulking Tommyinnit and the ghostly figure of Wil- Ghostbur. The warm rays of the setting sun reflecting off the crystalline seas made quite a sight, the calming waves crashed against the rocks near the shore, and the occasional sheep or pig grazing by the grasslands not far from the beach was always a nice sight. It could have been the perfect place for a private getaway, away from the constant pranks and griefing in New Lmanburg.‘Could’ was the keyword though.

Stripped away from all his equipment, (thanks Dream) and having to forcibly set his new spawn point in buttfuck nowhere. Was not something one would call a luxurious vacation.

“And so I was thinking since we’re on vacation we could build a nice holiday house! We can have tents and campfires. Oh! And we could even stargaze at night. Look at all the possibilities we have as the lads on tour!”, Ghostbur rambled away, unable to pick up on the mood.“And then we could roast some marshmallows and then maybe we- Hey Tommy are you listening?” 

“That sounds lovely Ghostbur, let me just gather the materials with my tools that Dream blew up with TNT.” Came the sarcastic and irritated reply.

“Oh don’t worry about that Tommy, Dream blew up your tools I still have mine perfectly intact! Here take this shovel! We could always use some glass and sand is abundant at the beach.”

If Tommy was surprised at Ghostbur’s apparent nonchalance of passing Dream’s watchful inspection (seriously, how had he sneaked past Dream with a full set of diamond tools!), he was too tired to show it.

The sun was setting, any moment now, vicious zombies and skeletons would rule the darkness. Without his Netherite equipment by his side and a lack of food and shelter, he would become easy pickings for these mobs.

The sea had become eerily quiet, the woodland creatures had returned to their nests and homes away from the dangers of the night. The dread was finally kicking in.

Hopelessness, fear, and anger. These were not foreign emotions to Tommy. Ever since the first war, these emotions had slowly begun to bloom, the thorny vines wrapping around his very being. Yet, Tommyinnit was not a man that found it easy to open up his fragile emotions to his friends. The stifling silence had begun to run amok in his head silently taunting him with its scratchy voice.

you’re all alone tommy.

betrayed once again.

do you think tubbo is thinking about you now?

“Tommy? Tommy? TOMMY!”

“SHUT UP!”

Reality and his delusion blurred, without even realizing it his little breakdown had caught the attention of a very concerned Ghostbur. Tremors wracked his body as soft sobs turned into full-fledged weepings.

“Hey, Tommy? Are you alright?”, worry laced Ghostbur’s voice, “Tommy I'm going to embrace you now if that’s okay.” Ghostbur looked upon the trembling figure with his knees drawn in, visibly shaking like a leaf.

Similar to approaching a small animal, Ghostbur slowly and calmly came up to Tommy and wrapped the poor boy around his arms as he whispered soft assurances to him.

Tommyinnit was his cherished younger brother that he had remembered. Despite his hazy memories after waking up, Ghostbur remembered Tommyinnit along with the happy memories they shared. Instinctively the spirit knew that an outburst like this was not because of some small problem, rather, it was likely from too much pent up negativity. For once, the spirit was despising the lack of memories.

If I remembered what caused this, would it be easier to help him?

I highly doubt it.

A raspy voice jolted Ghostbur from his inner thoughts, still embracing Tommy he swept around the area looking for the owner of the oddly familiar voice. There were no beings in sight besides Tommy and him. All that could be heard now were the subsiding sniffles of Tommy who was glued to Ghostbur.

Hanging off the edge of the horizon was the fading sunlight, dark hues of night began to paint the sky, they could not stay outside much longer. Ghostbur could no longer theoretically die however Tommy was human, Tommy could. He could be easily mauled by zombies and spiders especially without a weapon and armor to protect him. Picking up Tommy, the spirit carried him to their temporary shelter built from materials scattered around the woods.  
Sure, it was not up to par with the comfort of their cozy homes in New Lmanburg, but beggars could definitely not be choosers now.

“Get some rest Tommy, I’m sure you’ll feel better after a good night’s rest. And then tomorrow we can turn this place into a nice vacation home yeah?” Ghostbur gently placed Tommy on a makeshift bed, it was just some hay covered by a woolen blanket made from the wild sheep in the area. But hey, it was the effort that counts.

The moment Tommy laid on the bed, both physical and mental exhaustion seemed to have hit him like a freight train. His head was throbbing, his body felt weak (probably from the hunger), and it felt like a repeat of his exile from Lmanburg multiplied by tenfold. He had been exiled before but this time it felt so much worse when it was Tubbo of all people to do it.

“I look so pathetic don’t I Ghostbur?”, Tommy chuckled with his scratchy voice “Day one and I’m already bawling my eyes out, kind of stupid don’t you reckon?” It was stupid, so why did he still breakdown? Stupid emotions. Stupid Dream. Stupid everything.

“I don’t think that’s the case, Tommy, you’ve just been thrown into the middle of nowhere with no way out. It wouldn’t be wrong to breakdown, it’s instinctual for humans to be scared of the unknown. Don’t worry alright? Tomorrow will be a better day.” 

Ghostbur was not wrong, he was afraid. But the exile caused more than just instinctual fear to surface. Maybe it was the trauma from war? His fear of abandonment? Or could it be his crippling trust issues? The world may never know. All the thoughts of his mental baggage may have hit the tipping point, his eyebags grew heavy and the hands of sleep pulled him in.

“Wil- Ghostbur, this is really dumb but please don’t leave me.” The boy whispered groggily as he held onto the cold hand of the spirit before falling into a deep sleep.

A sudden wave of sorrow, regret, and desolation washed over Ghostbur. These emotions were not his own. Yet, the rawness of it all screamed out to him, it screamed and tugged at his cold dead heart. These phantom emotions wanted him to do something, but what was it? 

It was the warmth of Tommy’s hand he was holding that broke Ghostbur from his reverie. These emotions were new to the amnesiac spirit, ever since he had awoken from the haze, the spirit found it hard to comprehend sad emotions. So, why did he feel like crying? Could he cry? He was dead; he was not supposed to understand emotions anymore. 

Since Tommy’s breakdown, these feelings were already festering within him as if it was telling him to do anything to help Tommy feel better. Of course, even without the strange sensations, Ghostbur knew that he had to care for Tommy. He loved Tommy. 

Without solid grasps of his already limited memories, it was truly impossible to do more for him. The spirit was lost. He wanted to help but he could not. Seeing Tommy in pain, afraid, and vulnerable broke the spirit’s, cold dead heart.

“I’m so sorry Tommy, please tell me what to do, please don't hurt anymore, pleasepleaseplease-”, Ghostbur chanted, grasping onto Tommy’s hand. “Tommy, tell me what I’ve done, that must be it, right? I’ve hurt you and many people, right? Is that it? Is that why you don’t like talking about Wilbur? Did he hurt you? It hurts, make it stop please.” The ghost had started to ramble to himself, lost in his world. He was just so confused.

“Tommy I-”, before he could finish, the spirit heard the familiar raspy voice again calling out to him. 

Rest now. I will do what I must to correct this.

The words flowed like honey into his mind, wrapping him up in a warm embrace. And then, there was nothing.  
~

It was a fragrant smell of and the mindless grazing of the animals outside their shelter that had woke Tommy. Slowly sitting up he inspected his surroundings, right outside the windows was the rising sun and beside him, sitting on top of a crafting table was a bowl of warm mushroom soup. Wasting no time he scarfed down the creamy soup like a starving man, which he was. The savory meal had temporarily sated his hunger. 

The meal had reminded Tommy of his time back in Pogtopia, stuck underground with an abundance of mushrooms, and so mushroom soup had become a routine meal. It was not all that bad though, Wilbur was a surprisingly good cook. He had managed to turn the odd (and very dubious) looking mushrooms into flavorful meals.

In fact, the bowl of soup he had drank tasted oddly nostalgic, almost as if the person that had made it was-

“Wilbur?”, Tommy gasped under his breath. He instantly stood up to scan his surroundings, finally realizing that the spirit in the yellow sweater was nowhere to be seen. “Am I losing it? I’m losing it aren’t I?” He asked no one in particular. Day two of exile and his brain was already going haywire, superb.

To make it worse, Tommy had started to hear noises coming outside the shelter. The aggressive splintering of wood had Tommy on high alert. Glancing around, his only form of self-defense was a bowl and some sticks on the ground, fun. Picking up two of the sturdiest looking sticks, Tommy prepared to hopefully face Ghostbur and not some psycho axe murderer that just so happened to live on the island.

Kill or be killed right? Oh god please just let it be Ghostbur. Sticks please protect me.

Tommy had begun to slowly creep towards the door, with a pair of deadly weapons in hand. Pushing open the door, he looked around and found the source of the chopping wood.

Thank the lords, backed faced towards Tommy was the spirit chopping down trees, many, many trees. The area around the shelter had become stripped of trees. Ghostbur was not lying when he said that he was going to build a fucking vacation home huh?

Finally letting the tension slip from his body, Tommy called out to the spirit, “Ghostbur! What are you gonna do with all that wood huh? You’ve practically chopped down all the trees around us!”

Pausing for a second, the spirit registered what Tommy had said and returned to his chopping. “Hey! You ignoring me Ghostbur? That is so not cool Ghost-”

“Ghostbur isn’t here right now Tommy, do you want me to leave a message for him when he returns?” The voice was Ghostbur’s, yet it was not Ghostbur speaking. Finally turning around to face Tommy, the spirit’s face was masked with light amusement. “Want to guess again?”

“Wil?... Wilbur?”, Tommy sounded incredulous. Oh god, he had actually lost it, this could not be happening, right? Wilbur was dead. Like dead, dead. He saw it with his own eyes. When the dust had settled, he had seen it, Wilbur’s body bleeding out cradled by Phil. And what came back was no longer Wilbur. So, who was this? His mannerism screamed Wilbur and he was willing to bet his diamonds that Wilbur was the one who had made the meal too. “It can’t be, right? You’re dead. Not like Ghostbur, dead, dead. But actually dead. Like no more respawns dead. I saw him die. Wilbur Soot is dead.”

“Well if I’m not Ghostbur, and I’m not Wilbur, who else can I be you nitwit. The bloody Queen of England?”. Ghostbur would have never said that. The sass and sarcasm could have only come from one person and that was...

“It’s really you Wilbur? You’re here. Back in the realm of the living.”

“Well, I’m very sure I’m not living, but I guess you could say that.” Wilbur chuckled.

“Then what’s or who’s Ghostbur?”

“Hmm, who knows?” Wilbur clearly knew who or what was this spirit yet he chose to keep it to himself.

“Does that mean you can come back? Not as Ghostbur but as Wilbur? Can you Wil?”

“Mmm I’m afraid not, this body isn’t mine. It’s like a ghost possessing another ghost if you can understand that. This is temporary, I’m basically using Ghostbur as a vessel right now. My own body is six feet under after all.” Wilbur sighed wistfully. Looking at Tommy he could tell that his brother was overwhelmed, it was not every day one woke up to see their dead brother inhabiting the body of an already dead person? Spirit? Mob? Was that even possible? Well, that was not a question for Wilbur to answer. He was here for another reason after all. Gathering himself, Wilbur walked towards the still dumbstruck Tommy, patted him on the shoulder, and guided him back towards the beach.

“Come along now, we have some things we need to talk about, yeah? I die for barely a month and you’ve become exiled from your own country, Tech’s become a war criminal, and Dream’s already back on his shit.” Dragging his name as if showing his disdain for the chaotic gremlin. “Well, what would you have expected by going all psycho and blowing up a country? Things like that mess with the psyche Wil.”

“I would have never guessed.”

“Why you-”

“Alright, hush now child.”

Wilbur and Tommy had found shade under some palm trees, plopping himself down on the sandy ground, Wilbur patted the space beside him. When Tommy had settled down, the two brothers gazed out, azure waves lapped at the shores, the sun shined down onto the vast ocean, while the sea breeze filled their lungs with salt.

“You’re taking this in more easily than expected.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already lost a lot of my screws.”

“Touche.”

“So, how are you handling this exile?”

“Would you believe me if I said that everything was currently sunshine and rainbows?”

“The eyebags and yesterday’s breakdown beg to differ.”

Tommy looked at Wilbur incredulously, “You were there yesterday?”. The mirth in Wilbur broke as his face morphed into one of tired resignation. “These few days it seems that I’m gaining more corporeality,” Wilbur glanced at his ashen gray hands, twiddling them about as if the limbs were not his...were they his? Or were they Ghostbur’s?

“When I had died, it was...quiet...it was rather peaceful. Then, out of nowhere, it was like I was thrust into some crappy VR out-of-body experience, I caught glimpses of New Lmanburg, the new citizens, Tech and Phil, they were all blurred together. I couldn't interact with anything though, I felt like a spectator. Day by day it got more and more vivid, I could hear his thoughts, and then eventually I think he could hear mine as well. Eventually, we ended up here.” Wilbur let his gaze sweep over Tommy. He wished he could have taken a picture of his dumbfounded face. “I hope you got all that, I’m not repeating myself.” 

“Why?”

“Well, it’d be a hassle too of course-”

“No, why as in, why did you choose to come back? You weren’t the happiest alive back in Pogtopia, in Lmanburg, and you were genuinely quite psychotic before you died if I do say so. You could have just stayed a spectator right? So why are you back now?”

To say he was surprised would be an understatement, Wilbur never expected Tommy to be capable of such analytical thinking. “Would you look at that, you can in fact read between the lines huh?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You insulting me?” Tommy grumbled. 

“No, not particularly, it just means that I can save some time skipping over some things.”

“Which are?”

“Nothing of much importance really.” Well, it might have some importance, seeing that the reason he came back was mainly because of Tommy. But, no way in hell was Wilbur going to give Tommy the smug satisfaction of hearing, “I came back from the dead to make sure you were alright because I care alot about you, maybe I also have to reconcile and make up for an act of terrorism.” Maybe if he paraphrased all of that Tommy would not realise it.

“Did you know dying has many perks? For one, the voices are gone and the stress-induced paranoia and psychopathy have gone poof! And I think I’ve never slept better. Truly the best pain reliever.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“Well...you can hear them too...right? The voices...the angry voices that want to hurt and want you to hurt. They’re getting louder aren’t they?” Wilbur recalled the time when he was alive, plagued by these menaces, they started as hushed murmurs that called to him, “kill him kill the traitor” then, as the wars and losses raged, they grew louder and more violent “they’ll all leave you, all of them traitors, hypocrites, liars! blow it up! leave nothing behind...your symphony will never be finished.” 

He had never been more relieved? Happy? Thankful? That it was his father that had finally brought upon the silence and peace he had craved so much.

“C-can you hear them now?” Good. Tommy was not completely losing it, but could he really count it as a win when his mind was being plagued by psychotic voices? Unlikely. “Dying shut them out completely I suppose.” Wilbur replied with nonchalance, “I’m not suggesting you off yourself though.” 

“What do you suppose I do? Become a terrorist to satisfy them?”

“I doubt you can cause any sort of damage to anyone other than yourself on this island.” Wilbur heaved a sigh, “Well, I think it’s time for some serious talk now, yeah?” He glanced out to the open ocean, “After dying, I had quite the time to finally reflect on my actions. Cutting to the chase, my actions were not really the best. I had hurt many people and I hold many regrets.” The faint spark in his eyes dimmed and the atmosphere around the two had turned somber. “Blinded with rage, paranoia and fear, I committed many wrongdoings. The voices got the better of me...and then one day, you remember right? I just snapped.” 

Wilbur placed both his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, facing the boy, he finally mustered enough strength, “I’m sorry Tommy. I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” Tommy glanced at the spirit of his dead brother, although dead, his eyes reflected all the emotion he needed to know. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much of a brother.”

“Wil…”

“I don’t even know if I can even make up for what I’ve done. Fucks sake this body isn’t even mine,” Wilbur Soot was a failure. But he was not going to let history repeat itself. “You’re feeling hopeless now, right? The voices they tempt and mock you don’t they? You're feeling angry, lost, and all of the inbetween.” He could recall it easily, the oppressive darkness that clouded him. “I just want to tell you, you’re not alone. There’s hope. All is not lost. I can’t fix the past, but I sure as hell can help you now.”

“So, Tommy, don’t give up, don’t give Dream, don’t give them, don’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you break. I-”. Before he could finish Wilbur was engulfed in a warm embrace. Ah...he missed this. Wilbur gripped on tightly to Tommy, cherishing the warmth of his brother. “-I promise you Tommy, Ghostbur will do whatever he can to help you through this. You won’t be alone.”

“Gh...Ghostbur? Won’t you be here?” Tommy asked hesitantly, he feared Wilbur’s answer. “This body isn’t mine, when Ghostbur wakes he’ll have it back. I don’t feel right fighting over control over some innocent spirit’s body.” Wilbur looked at Tommy solemnly, the boy was distressed. “Hey hey hey look at me Tommy, look at me alright?”, the boy glanced at Wilbur whose face was one of pure serenity, “Whatever Ghostbur feels, I feel. Whatever I feel, he feels. Ghostbur will treat you right. Maybe one day we can work out a way for me to visit temporarily, would you want that?”.

Wilbur smiled adoringly, ruffling Tommy’s blonde locks as the boy nodded enthusiastically. Millions of emotions were running through Tommy right now, the sorrow of yesterday was long forgotten. He missed this, the way Wilbur would taunt and jokingly mock him, but in the end he would always cave and show Tommy his affection.

“I’ve missed this. I miss you. Wilbur I miss you so much,” Tommy sobbed, grasping onto Wilbur. “Please come back, don’t ever go away again.” He wanted to stop time so badly, he wanted to stay with him longer, he wanted to hear more of Wilbur’s stupid speeches which he barely understood but always got him pumped up. 

The sun that was beating down not long ago had begun its descent down the horizon, had they really been here for so long? It felt like mere minutes to Tommy.

“Ah...I think Ghostbur’s gonna wake in a few more hours, what say you and I go do something fun before I go? How about we go find some sheep and make you an actual bed? Your posture needs fixing and that ‘bed’ you deem a bed back there sucks.” Wilbur hoisted the sniffling child up and carried him towards the forest.

“Wha- Hey! Hey! Let me down you arsehole I can walk by myself!” 

“Aww is the child acting up? So cute.”

“I am not a child! Wilbur Soot you better let me down this instant!” Tommy tried his best to shout but his voice was scratchy from crying and it sounded more like whining. Oh god, he sounded like a child.

“Alright alright don’t need to get so defensive you baby.” Wilbur chuckled, letting down the child that was trying to claw him. Tommy let out an annoyed huff as Wilbur made fake cooing noises. “If you weren’t already dead I would have stabbed you right here, right now.”

“Oof, low blow TommyInnit.”

And so, the two brothers ventured into the forest like beginners in a new realm, they broke trees, hunted animals, and rejoiced at the sight of iron ore. The burden of running a country was lifted off the child’s shoulders. There were no rules or regulations he had to follow, he felt free, he felt happy.

The orange hues in the sky signalled the ending of day, and the two brothers returned back to the shelter.

Tommy plopped himself on the makeshift bed, the clanging of his newly crafted iron tools followed suit. “Maybe we’ll find some diamonds soon, and then we can get to the Nether, and then maybe, just maybe we can get ourselves back to New Lmanburg. Whaddya think Wilbur?”,  
Wilbur was rubbing at his temples, almost as if he was having a headache, “Wilbur? You alright?”. Tommy sat up immediately, rushing towards Wilbur and gripping onto him, he had a gut feeling of what was happening he just hoped it was not what he was thinking of.

“Looks like time’s almost up.”

No. Please just a while more, let this last longer.

Tommy stared dejectedly at the floor, still gripping onto Wilbur’s sweater he could feel his eyes water again. “Are you absolutely certain you’ll find a way to come back? I swear to God if you lie to me Wilbur...I’ll...I’ll go kick your ass or something. I’ll-” 

“Alright alright, I, Wilbur Soot promise to find a way to come back so that TommyInnit won’t have to kick my ass.” Wilbur picked Tommy up once again wrapping him in a loving embrace and lightly caressed his hair. “I swear to you Tommy, you won’t be alone.” Wilbur would never want Tommy to go through the same ordeal he had faced, he was going to make sure the child actually got to live like an actual child. No matter how much Tommy denied it, dragging him into full-fledged wars was one thing that Wilbur would never forgive himself for.

“Take some time to rest and relax, yeah? Enjoy yourself, don’t overthink. Knowing your friends they’ll definitely find a way to see you soon.” Could Tommy really enjoy himself? He wanted to spend time with Wilbur. Not as a president. Not as a terrorist. But as his brother, was it so much to ask for?

Between the haze, Tommy had not realized that Wilbur had crafted an actual bed and placed him down. He finally registered it when he felt Wilbur’s cold hands grasp his, “Just for tonight, I’ll stay until you’re asleep alright?”

And so, TommyInnit fell asleep, hands interlocked with his brother’s. And he dreamt, he dreamt of simpler times, the strums of guitar strings, the sounds of wooden swords clashing, the warmth of his home and family enveloped him.

~  
“Tommy! Tommmmmmy! Wake up!” The voice of an excited Ghostbur woke up a sleepy TommyInnit, “Whassit you want?” Tommy slurred, still groggy from being forced awake. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scanned his surroundings, it was just Tommy now. Ghostbur must be outside then.

“Tommy you aren’t gonna believe this! I blacked out for some reason and then I woke up finding myself leaning against you by your bed! It was weird because I don’t think ghosts are capable of sleeping! Hmm, maybe ghosts can faint?” Ghostbur rambled on, “And that's not even the weirdest part! I checked my inventory and it was filled with materials we needed! Come out and I’ll show you what I’ve built!”

If Wilbur Soot was a shitty cat that liked to push glassware off counter-tops, then Ghostbur was an overly excited puppy that loved to please. “Okay okay I’m coming”, Tommy trudged towards the door and opened it, “What the absolute fuck.”

“Do you like it? It’s still a work in progress but with the materials I have it’s gonna be done in no time!” 

Did someone give Ghostbur creative mode? What the absolute hell…

Tommy had to rub his eyes again to make sure he really was not losing it. The contrast between the poorly furnished interior of his shelter and the current architectural masterpiece of what Ghostbur had built almost gave him a stroke.

“I told you the shelter would only be temporary, we’re gonna have a nice vacation home! I’m not done yet, but you can already shift out of the shelter and into the main house! We have heating, plumbing and anything else you could ask for at a vacation home!” The spirit went on and on happily describing the housing as if it did not take him less than a day to build.

“Ghostbur...this is amazing.”

“You really think so? That makes me really happy! Thank you Tommy!”

“Do you reckon we give it a name?”

“A name? Sure! Why not?”

“Logstedshire sounds nice.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely based off a HC I have, and i just wanted to get this off my chest. If you’re interested to know more just dm me @Cosmi_x on twitter :’)


End file.
